#Because we're still writing them

[bixels]

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 71: shy

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[aroaceleovaldez]

full on feel like pjo tv s2 is not gonna hold up so they need to drag as much attention to the series as they can by using nico as a sock puppet w tsats2

im fully expecting the show to go the way of the movies. it doesnt help Sea of Monsters is almost unanimously the least favorite book of the first series. People frequently forget it even exists or what happens in it, especially more casual fans.

Heck, just look at how little fanfare the second season has gotten so far as compared to the build up to s1. I wouldn't be surprised if s2 totally flops. It would be a little funny.

[lovegrowsart]

the argument i keep seeing that the choice qimir gives to osha to leave the island in episode six isn't a "real choice" because in the real world it'd maybe be realistically logistically/physically difficult to cross that body of water is driving me up the wall because it's such literal thinking when star wars has never been and will never be concerned with what's realistic or logistically plausible. there's fire in space in the first episode of the show, because fire needed to be there to give osha that moment of flashback to the trauma of her childhood and help further establish her character - it's entirely in service to the story, doesn't matter that that's not how it works irl.

the reason the ship is there is because it needed to be in the distance to facilitate the visual storytelling - osha looking back at the ship, her chance to flee/escape the underworld, then looking back at qimir walking away off screen and making the choice to follow him. that's literally (heh) it. he even suggests waiting for low tide if she wants an easier time of it if we're gonna be that concerned about how oh so terribly hard it'd be for osha - who is an adult ex jedi and a mechanic that does such dangerous jobs on space ships that the republic legit made it illegal for anyone but droids to do them - to manage a bit of a difficult swim :(

ymmv on the qimir being manipulative angle, but i think it'd benefit a lot of people's understanding of the dynamic between osha and qimir in episode six to remember that star wars is fairytale - it is metaphorical and psychological mythology. it is not realistic or grounded in reality, nor is it meant to be read with realism in mind, because then you're simply analysing/critiquing from a position that the story isn't operating from.

you don't have to take a creator's words into consideration when developing your own interpretation, but such things can be helpful and valuable. leslye headland's made her intentions re: osha and qimir's dynamic pretty clear - that it's not meant to be manipulative, that one of the purposes of episode six was to explore qimir's "lighter" side and osha's "darker" side (hence the wholly unsubtle costuming choices, him in natural-looking off-white and osha entirely in solid grey). while qimir isn't being wholly honest with her right off the bat (cause why would he be?), he also isn't deceiving or tricking her about anything re: who he is and what he's about - how could he? she knows his face. she knows entirely what he's capable of and what he did in episode five. he can't play the master and the fool the way he did with mae, he can only be as honest as a man like him can be if he wants her to listen to him. i don't think she's naive about him at all, and i think people struggle with understanding that - that she doesn't have any illusions about his morality or lack thereof - and understanding that she still has the agency and desire to listen to what he has to say. you can believe it isn't "good" for her to listen to him, sure, but that doesn't mean she's being maliciously manipulated maliciously.

[fictionadventurer]

Why is this book about 1880s London Jews so relatable to the 2020s American Roman Catholic experience?

In Amy Levy's Reuben Sachs, you've got:

The community that is at once fully part of the modern world while having an insular nature (and the amount of modern vs. insular varies based on the person and family)

The people who ignore their religion 99% of the year, but wouldn't even consider skipping services on the important holidays

The ultra-traditionalists who go so intense on holding to traditions that a lot of other members of their religion side-eye them

The kids who go to services only because their parents force them to, or who rebel and refuse to go because they don't see the point or don't believe in God

The new convert who is more zealous than, like, 90% of the people who were born into this religion

A family with its very specific blend of religious opinions and inside jokes that's fully aware that they're baffling to outsiders

This book was apparently meant to be a realistic portrait of Jewish life (in response to Daniel Deronda and its (according to Levy) highly unrealistic and over-idealized portrayal of Jews), and my goodness, did she succeed in capturing what it's like to live in a culturally religious community in a rapidly secularizing world.

[cisthoughtcrime]

.

[thegreatyin]

And thus, with the passing of 24 hours, Caeru's ambition truly comes to an end. Major Nemesis spoilers below the cut- we're talking endgame ambition business here. Mostly on a character RP front.

The Doomed Scientist made quite a few... choice decisions, in the end. Killing Cups once and for all, recording his story as one of grief-

And sparing what little remained of Mr Mirrors, leaving it free to roam Parabola as it sees fit.

Some of them, he can explain. Others, he's still left to feel... discontent.

Cups needed to die. That much was certain from the start. It was a tyrant, as all Masters are, and complicit in the bargaining and eventual destruction of four (potentially five) cities, as all Masters are. It was an obstacle. A murderer. A petty monster that felt no remorse even on its deathbed, and it went out of its way to ruin multiple lives just because it felt owed its own sick and twisted idea of revenge.

It killed his first love. It looked him in the eyes and he knew what it had done and he knew from the start it was going to die.

Perhaps, in the end, it knew too. And yet it still pleaded, and wanted to live, and-

It made a bargain.

A bargain Caeru didn't take.

Not because he didn't want to. Gods, he wanted to. He wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else in the world. To have Greylu back, to give him the gift of life, of love, to show him the wonders of the Neath and the beauty of the correspondence and all of the people Caeru has met and loved and found home with along the way-

But. He couldn't.

Because Cups was a monster. And no matter what, it deserved to die. And he could not, in good conscience, allow it to live.

Even if sparing it meant everything he's ever wanted.

So he's left here, now. With a bloodied traveling coat, and a bloodsoaked knife, and a favor finally fulfilled.

And nothing to live for. No resurrected lover, no charming visits to Helicon, no slow dances in the living room, no memories to rebuild and lives to live and he won't live again-

Nothing. All he has is a coat born of obligation, not to his love, but to people he's never even met. To lives he's never even touched. To a paramour, still alive, with hair of rose-pink, who doesn't even remember her own brother's existence.

Cups didn't die for Caeru's sake. Cups died for the sake of all who wanted it dead. For the revenger's court, and the ghost screaming in his ear, and the reckoning that will not be postponed indefinitely.

And Caeru, who acted as a tool to carry out their wills? Who all but betrayed his own lover, just to satisfy a cause he never knew existed?

All Caeru is left with, is regret. Regret-

-And grief.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[britneyshakespeare]

Had the extremely upsetting experience of a mutual of like 6 years going off on me for occasionally making posts about supporting Harris because apparently that makes me a g n cide denier who refuses to learn and grow, with all of my views just being assumed not even from what I've told them I believe or what I've posted before, but just because I DON'T post particularly the kind of things they THINK I should be. When I pointed out how much they were just completely assuming about stuff I'd never talked to them about, I was told it doesn't matter what I do in real life or "care" about if I simply disagree with their conclusion and vote for her anyway. Like they were absolutely not sorry for the level of maliciousness they not just assumed of my character, but for some reason thought appropriate to bring directly to me before unfollowing me. No apology whatsoever for how discomforting or upsetting that might be and certainly no acknowledgment that I could disagree with them and still be a good person. I just got another even longer rant about how they fundamentally can't fuck with me because of this one thing, no matter WHAT else I do in my real life (which I pointed out that they do not know), and how I'm directly supporting fascism.

Like seriously what is it about Tumblr that makes people think they know someone based off of occasional posts? There were just such DEEP assumptions they were making of me and going off of very little or absolutely nothing. Around the time I first became mutuals with that person I used to express my personality and beliefs and talk about what was going on in my life a lot more openly, but I've significantly scaled back on doing that in many ways for many reasons. One of my major ones is privacy and the way I've had strangers outside my followers and following circles just find random things I say and dogpile me for it. I was fundamentally changed after some T Fs did that to me like 3 years ago. I also just didn't have many conversations w that person anymore (I message people in general on here like 10x less than I did circa 2018-2019, which I'm somewhat sorry about!). My point is to say I think this person felt comfortable assuming that they knew me, especially who I am in 2024 at the age of 25, much better than they actually did.

One of the specific things they accused me of was being afraid of learning and growing (because I don't perform social media activism on here like they think I should). Like AFRAID to take criticism. When again I've never received criticism from them or had to respond to any criticism on here before as pertaining to my views on... well, absolutely any of the issues they accused me of not caring about. They essentially treated it as if the only thing in the world I cared about was the US election and characterized me as the most out-of-touch liberal they could possibly imagine, because I'm not "pushing" Kamala Harris to be better (Oh?? Should I do that on here?? Does she read my blog??).

And most hypocritically what they said was that I only *sometimes* *vaguely* post pro-Harris things (I often post like 5 or fewer things in a day though?). But here's the kicker. "Because I know I'll get shit for it. And rightfully so."

Really????? Not a single person, anon or not, in my messages or in a tagged post or anything, has ever given me shit before for saying who I'm voting for. I'm actually NOT afraid of "getting shit" for that opinion, I just don't start fights with people who are anti-voting. And why should I??? I genuinely don't believe in trying to change the minds of strangers on the internet about that sort of thing. I'm just not confrontational about it; that is so not the same thing as being "afraid of getting shit." I'm not posting ENOUGH about my support for Harris, therefore I'm afraid. But therefore they can also make all these assumptions about me being their strawman for an ignorant Harris supporter.

I'm afraid of getting shit but I still post anyway? But if I weren't afraid of getting shit I'd be posting a lot more?? This is ALL based on their assumptions of what my blog *should* look like, based on what I really and truly believe. My level of posting every now and then is an accurate gauge of my feelings on complex, sensitive, global issues. Because I'm voting for the Democratic presidential candidate and I'm ok sharing pretty much just that little glimpse of myself.

I really don't think that person knows just how inappropriate and insulting that is to just say all of that to me. Like they really know what's going on in my head. Their first message began and ended with like "I'm sorry I love you I just can't take it anymore" but they clearly weren't sorry enough to try and be more respectful to me, and they didn't love me enough not to default to extremely ungenerous assumptions and attacking me based off of those instead of any actual words I've said that they take issue with.

Online radicalization is real and it's not necessarily bad because your political views can start to fall well out of the contemporary Overton window. The way you find it appropriate to treat people whose views, however common, seem to fundamentally misalign with yours... that does matter. You can't just assume the worst of everyone and then act on that in how you approach them as individuals. And then be shocked that you don't stay friends with them. You can't be confrontational with someone about an issue you've never had an honest conversation about, and then expect them to take your bad faith in them as reasonable well-meaning criticism.

I'm afraid of criticism??? I'm afraid of criticism. No I'm not. This person and I have never had an issue before where they criticized me and I got harshly defensive. It was ALL projection. The entire tone of their messages was as if all their anti-voting posts recently were somehow in communication with the occasional go-vote-for-Harris posts that I make. That's not a conversation. I don't post for your satisfaction. I don't post in "response" to my mutuals I disagree with. I just post what's on my mind, sometimes, about some things. I really again can't stress enough how baffled I am by this

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) wilson in pre-rut and still working but it being more and more obvious to the ducklings (who are not in tune with his cycle like that freak house is, thanks) because he starts following house around more than usual, sometimes even getting physically closer to him when it's not necessary (and house lets him most of the time too. not all the time though. if he gets especially annoyed he'll snip at him and wilson backs off with his head ducked which is..... atypical pre-rut alpha behavior but also their friendship is atypical so whatever)

it's so bad sometimes they even catch wilson smiling while he pretends not to notice while house steals his wallet so he can empty out the vending machine for his favorite snacks. later when they're alone in house's office, house pulls out a couple bags of wilson's favorites he got while he was raiding the machine and tosses them over. the look on wilson's face is so dopey that house can't help but snicker and tell him to put in his notice of leave for his cycle soon because he is really swimming in it now

[danwhobrowses]

So after four months, Bell's Hells are off the moon

0.5/5 Stars - Some of the locals were nice but activities were shit and needs new management.

But what's this? Aabria with a steel chair!? She's probably cackling looking at the socials right now

[autumngracy]

Not me creeping up to the wordcount of the fourth longest book ever written

[rambles-on-dragon-age]

Varric doesn't give you the nickname Rook, your whole faction calls you Rook. It makes no sense to give you a faction specific last name and then your faction doesn't even use it, but yeah.

Hi hi!

This will be a bit of a ramble, sorry.

Varric, as a character, gives nicknames to those he's around for any length of time. (Solas is Chuckles, Merrill is Daisy, Vivi is Iron Lady, etc. Very few people in close contact with him will escape earning a moniker. I can go on about how I think it's one of his ways of telling people he sees them, but I digress.) The player character has been traveling with him for a year/the better part of a year. Varric would have definitely given them a nickname in that time. (Honestly it shocks me Harding doesn't have one by now but maybe he tried and she shut that down like Aveline once did lol) When you're putting out your things in the Lighthouse one of them is his shaving mirror and you have a moment of reflection about what he said when he hands it to you. There's also the whole time where he's giving you advice and guides you (IYKYK) and it's clear he means a lot to a Rook and they're close.

That is to say, no matter what faction you were with, you left in disgrace. You broke some code the higher ups held dear, messed up well laid plan, ignored orders to save people, etc. You didn't "fit the bill" for your faction and were summarily "adopted" by Varric to help in his hunt for Solas. Those things that made you a bad fit for your original faction? Made you perfect for what he's doing. A good person that doesn't let the potential costs stop them; they see what needs to happen to help people and will run head first into it and manage to figure a way through the most fucked up situations possible.

When you first meet Neve, you're introduced as Rook. "Like the chess piece?" Yes! One of the most powerful pieces on the board, "but tends to think in straight lines". Which becomes evident in all our shenanigans as Rook through the game. Rook's ability to claw their way through the worst situations and be flexible and creative means that Solas wouldn't be able to predict them or what they'll do. Which turns out to be right; he doesn't expect you to drop a statue on him in the middle of a massive ritual. Rook saw only "this ritual needs to stop NOW" and found a way, no matter the consequences.

I didn't hear that dialogue my first game, though, because I did my first run as a Shadow Dragon. Neve doesn't comment on the naming convention because instead Varric says you both do work with the Shadow Dragons and she just skims past the naming convention to say "Oh, what a coincidence." You are still introduced as Rook at first; it's not until later when you're in the Lighthouse where you can have the conversation that you've heard of each other even though you've never worked together.

Because even if I've worked in the group beside you under the same boss for 20 years, if you're introduced to me as "Rook" instead of "_____ Mercar" I'm not going to know who you are. It's not until later, probably while you're unconscious and she has a chance to speak to Harding, that she says she knows who you are. (Based on what Bellara says when you find her in the forest, you've been out cold for two or three days. Can you imagine what our detective figured out in two or three days?)

All that to say, if "Rook" was given to you by the Shadow Dragons, Neve would have said "Oh! I heard of a Rook." instead of just "Oh! What a coincidence we're both Shadow Dragons." She doesn't comment on who you are and what you've done until later when you have a chance to talk to her in the Lighthouse.

And throughout the game, you continue to be introduced as Rook. Even if you started as another faction, if you're written a letter about "Rook" and not your real name, why would anyone know who Rook is until they meet and go "Oh this lil shit right here. I know this asshole."

[hearts401]

We need to start treating bad writing like bad art and im not kidding

[laneaconite]

Treatment

“Take this pill,” They say.

Take this pill and it should work

 In a month,

                    Three months,

                                            Six.

Take this pill,

And it will make you tired.

                                        They all make you tired,

Because they act on the brain, 

                                                  You see.

Take this pill,

“We’re sorry the others didn’t work.”

We will smile

                    Sympathetically.

                                                 We do care.

Take this

            Pill.

                  It will make you dizzy.

Take this

            Injection.

                           Since it is treatment resistant

Now.

It will hurt,

                 It will make you itch.

You can still keep taking the old ones,

                                                         In case they end up working

                                                                                                          Too.

Take this pill,

                      It should work in one month,

                                                                    Three months,

Six.

No, we don’t know

                               Why this is happening.

We don’t know

                     How to fix it.

Your blood screening was

                                           Normal.

Your CT scan was

                                Normal.

Take this pill.

-Lane Aconite,

March 5th, 2023